


The Mind Of Lady Macbeth

by frosto



Category: Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: Madness, Murder, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, character psychology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:50:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9184516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frosto/pseuds/frosto
Summary: Lady Macbeth's thoughts through major parts of the play





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for english lit' but thought i might share
> 
> I was inspired by a previous fic that I thought was really cool
> 
> (bear with me it's my first fic)

“These violent delights have violent ends…”

 

 

Macbeth has returned and not without great news. Not only was he victorious in battle, more greatness is to come. Witches promised him to be Thane of Cawdor and to become King. The first one showed to be true which confirms the second. Furthermore Duncan is to come by tonight, only he shall never leave. Macbeth must kill him tonight. If he does then he will be King, and I Queen.

If there would be a problem to this plan, it would be my husband softness. They say that men are violent and ambitious, and that women are pretty objects that bring life and kindness. But tonight, I shall have enough ambition for us both, and the violent acts of my husband will be of my conjuring. After tonight I will finally have the power I deserve, but I must play my cards right. My husband will not easily bend his morals, though I’m sure that a whisper in the right direction will get him to do the job. He will be holding the dagger, but I will be holding his decisions.

******  
It is done,  
The dagger has been stained,  
The King is dead,  
Macbeth will rise,  
Long live the King, and long may he reign.

 

******

I am finally Queen but I fear for my position. My husband acts like a mad man. He sees things, throws fits, and seems almost possessed. At our feast he was all kinds of strange. He refused to take seat in the chair we kept for him. What worries me most is the reactions of the Lords. What if they turn against him? What if they judge him unfit to be king? I shall not have it, but there isn’t much I can do. Ever since Macbeth has become King he seems to have forgotten who it was that made it possible. He is shutting me out of all decisions, ignoring me when I am the reason he is al he is today. 

I lost at my own game… I see it now. I acted pretty and pleasant for my husband to become king; took the role of the woman in exterior when I was really the man in spirit. But now that the Duncan is dead I am neither. I lost my violence and lost my purity. I am but the pretty Queen, holding banquets and doing nothing while her husband takes care of the violent doings. How ironic that I let myself go down such a path, or is the word I’m looking for pathetic?

******

The descent into madness is as quick as it is subtle. Deaths are piling up and I am to blame. I awoke in Macbeth an evil spirit beyond my imagination; I wanted him to be the serpent, and now he is the bloodhound. I am reduced to nothing. What I once thought I wanted turns out to be what I wanted least. Our truth was revealed and the people want revenge. I would go see Macbeth to tell him to flee, but it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m not sure I want to anyways. How could I flee? There is no escaping the guilt that weights on my fragile mind. I feel dirty and stained by the blood that has been spilt and I’m not sure I can go on. 

The saddest part is that I have only myself to blame; if I had not persuaded my husband to kill the King, maybe we would both be sane and happy, but the taste of power awakes a thirst that is only quenchable by obtaining it. If you read this my dearest Macbeth, know that I would do it all again so we could have been happy. I was proud to be your partner and wife; I was destroyed by the death of our child and destroyed you with the darkness I murmured in your ears.

Only death can free me from the prison of my mind, only death will bring an undisturbed sleep. May this dagger open my throat, and free my spirit. 

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall. 

 

*******


End file.
